Poem Hunter
Poems
Senses, Senses
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849 / Boston)

Senses, Senses

Senses, oh my first victims,
You are open again, you are sucking again, cleansed
You return to life.
Your brain is using you like a devil,
Tempted by a crime immune to law.
Senses, oh my sacred victims,
So it is again tonight,
Lucid,
(Oh Lord, how lovely you are when you are lucid)
You draw and suck, but find no fulfilment.
Nothing responds to you, nothing belongs to you,
And still, my dear, you must deliver.
But tonight, though willing to deliver, no one waits for you,
No one wants you, oh my senses.
And the brain, that magic devil,
Is now weeping.
Such a pity
To see a devil weep!

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Comments (8)

It. Is a very beautiful poem
....haunting and beautiful...love this ★
The Master Bard...always zoned in on & accomplishing superior craftsmanship ~FjR~
A splendid display of pictorial literature... ~FjR~
Poe paints a vivid picture here
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